Reality.

Well, Wolfies, it was accomplished: I successfully averted all waterslides.
Maybe you remember a post I wrote last year about how I hate to fall. Because I do. I just really, really, really hate to fall.

Physically, I am talking about. Like down hills, stairs, jumping off cliffs, jumping off bridges, whatever. I hate it. That is not my adrenaline rush. I prefer speed…just not speed DOWN.

So yes, this week my family took a wee vacation to one of those indoor waterparks.

It was a grand little time (especially since I averted all waterslides). All of the babies love the water so it was great fun to be with them, splish splashing around, and sometimes it was a little nerve-wracking, what with seeing the 18 month-old refuse to be in water shallower than up to his neck.

The little guy can’t even say “Hello” but he can throw a fit enough to let us know clearly that….he likes the deep end.

And the six year old, “No, I can be in the wave pool without a tube,” she would say.

“WHAT?!?!?” I would respond, is shocked horror. And yet, there she was, laughing and giggling…no tube.

Or like seeing the four year old swim—only she only knows how to swim while being completely under water.

I can’t even do that. I am a grown adult and I still have to manually plug my nose.
No joke.

The only problem with the week is that I took zero pictures.

I know. The camera just never made it out of the bag.
Fortunately I stole a few pictures off the sister-in-laws phone.

 

 

 

One little hiccup we had was that…well…we got snowed in to our resort. Had to stay another day.

Clearly there would be no use of the OUTDOOR waterslides.

 

What a strange sensation being in a bathing suit, sweating, and looking out the window at a complete blizzard. Very strange. I didn’t know which was reality.

Pointing to the snow out the windows, of course. In our bathing suits, of course.

 

Also another strange thing: Seeing people around the resort who I had also seen at the pools….in their bathing suits…and thinking, “Hmmm, I have seen you without hardly any clothes on.”
Again, I wasn’t sure which was reality.

Ha.

Anyway, I am back to reality now. Kind of. Most of my family ended caravanning back to my house for a few more days and they are still here, so I am trying not to drink too much coffee, and I am trying to be sociable (even though the introvert in me tends to rear its ugly head and attempts to make me unpleasant—I am trying my hardest to refuse him), and I have broken personal rules of mine: like the fact that I don’t make brownies to just have around the house.

I don’t like dessert, why would I have brownies?
Ah, but the ones I love like brownies…or cake…or whatever it turned out to be.

One serious thing about my week has been a realization that, disgustingly, I have never had before. And I am still trying to process it.

I don’t know if there was a direct verse that correlated to it, but it was the thought that Jesus will always love me more than I love him.

Isn’t that sobering? Like a good little gut punch?

Let me say it again:

The Lord will always love you more than you love him.

I think maybe it was sparked on by that verse “We love because he first loved us,” (I John 4:19) or that line from that song, “If you had not loved me first I would refuse you still” (‘All I have is Christ,’ I think).

Yet, there is the knowledge now of knowing he loves me more, and knowing that I will again, over and over, probably even later today, turn my back on him. About whatever, about nothing, about something that doesn’t even love me at all, let alone love me as much as he loves me.

Yikes.

It’s that point when grace touches reality and your eyes see it, but almost have to turn away because of the brightness of it, and because of the darkness it burns out from inside of me.

Almost as if it takes your breath away. Or knocks the wind out of you. Whichever.